a writer wanders

Crash Landing

After 5 hours of standing in the sideways rain, trying to get out of Olympia, we caved and bought a pair of bus tickets to Bellingham, and for the first time in 6 months of hitch hiking America, I felt like Jack Kerouac.

Being a writer on a journey such as this one, I felt that I could not not read On the Road, and I did try, but I only got about half way before I just had to give up. With all due respect, Mr. Kerouac is a terrible hitch hiker. He spends all his money on stupid stuff like apple pie, hotel rooms, and trying to impress ladies. He usually makes a show of trying to hitch rides after dark, then gives up because obviously that shit doesn’t work, especially when you’re a solo dude, then he buys a bus ticket at the first opportunity because he’s a goddamn poser. But enough about him, and back to all the beautiful people who I’m lucky enough to call my friends.

After bussing to Bellingham, where we stayed with our amazing friends Erik and Nathan, Adrian’s mother picked us up and drove us home as if we’d just been kids out at the movies for an afternoon. Ever since then, it’s been a blur.

Many, many visits with family, buying car insurance, getting my licence, going to the bank, arguing with academic advising, cataloging our belongings, becoming the proud parents of a kombucha scoby, signing a lease, party planning… managing all of this while maintaining basic personal hygiene and sanity. And all without a cellphone. Never in my life have I felt so much like an adult. All day, we run about, checking things off the todo list, and then we show up at the home of one of our friends and process.

Responsibility, yo

That’s the best word for it: process. We tell them stories, list names they’ve never heard, debate politics, and show them photos. But mostly we’re just vomiting the contents of our brains all over their persons. To all victims: we are infinitely grateful for your patience with us.

After months and months of constant experience, we finally have the time to reflect properly, and with the backdrop of normalcy that Vancouver provides, it’s like… whoa.

But there’s not much time to sit and let those thoughts brew, because we’re already on to the next thing. Tomorrow morning, Adrian and I get in our car full of so much shit, (Why do we have all of this?) and drive to a place called Rossland, BC.

For those of you who don’t know, Rossland will be our home for the next 5 months. I’m going to be a lift attendant, and Adrian’s next vocation is to be announced. We’re going to be loving life all winter on Red Mountain and you guys are ALL invited to come and visit us!